TwentyTwenty
by DianeB
Summary: Hahn/OFC. Erica finds another "pair of glasses" in a place where she least expected to. This is Femslash! Don't read if you're not into that sort of thing. Chapter 1 written for a 2008 'Christmas Wish-list' challenge; further chapters added after that.
1. A New Outlook

Title: Twenty-Twenty  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC

Summary: Set two weeks after the S5 episode, "Rise Up," Hahn finds another "pair of glasses" in a place where she least expected to.

Author's Note: For gsrfan7, from the Passion and Perfection 2008 Christmas Wish-list challenge. This may not be exactly what she was wishing for, but I hope it at least introduces potential. Written in December, 2008. This is my _tenth Grey's Anatomy _story. Thanks to Brenda S., Mighty Editor goddess.

Disclaimer: Watch out, this is femslash (lite). Don't read it if you're not into this sort of thing. I own nothing of _Grey's Anatomy_.

**

* * *

**It had taken surprisingly little time for Hahn to tie up loose ends at Seattle Grace and be gone from the place. She'd even had Michael Norris transferred to Mercy West, where he could wait for a suitable heart in an environment that wasn't riddle with criminal activity and constant reminders of heartbreaking awakenings.

And the most beautiful part of it all was that she'd hadn't had to step one foot inside the hospital to accomplish it. Thank God for computers, faxes, and cell phones.

Oh, sure, Richard Webber had begged, which was oddly flattering given their final heated words regarding Izzie Stevens, but his pleas did nothing to persuade her to stay. She'd told him she was not going to report Stevens to UNOS (his sigh of relief had been deafening), but that was as far as her charity went. She'd be leaving for the East Coast in two weeks.

The only hospital she'd stepped into before her departure was Mercy West, just to make sure Michael was comfortable and to say goodbye. She still cursed herself for getting so emotionally involved with this particular patient, but in hindsight, it seemed her destiny to do so, and in the end, so much more had been made painfully clear because of it.

Now, sitting at a minuscule table in the airport bar in St. Louis, waiting for a connecting flight to Baltimore, she ordered a glass of crimson Merlot and flipped open the _Science_ magazine she'd indulged in purchasing.

Thusly occupied, Erica did not notice the bar filling with people or that the chair opposite hers had become nearly the only other available seat. That is, not until a warm hand touched her shoulder and caused her to jump a mile.

The person had the good manners to immediately remove the hand. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I was just going to ask if you minded if I shared your table, since yours seems to be the only seat left in the house."

With her adrenaline spiking and her attention split between that and the article she'd been reading, Erica looked up distractedly, only to be fully snared by a pair of sparkling green feminine eyes, nestled in a face framed by the thickets mahogany hair she'd ever seen. As alarms sounded in her head, Erica wondered with incredulity how on earth she had lived this long without realizing how attracted to women she could be. It seemed unfathomable that before Callie, she had only slept with men – and did not think she was missing anything! Her body, busy ratcheting up all systems, was obviously not wasting any time playing catch-up.

Easing in a careful breath to throttle down her pounding heart, Erica found sense enough to return a smile and a word. This stranger was, after all, only asking for a seat, not for her hand in marriage. "Yeah, uh, yes," Erica fumbled, gesturing toward the empty chair, "please sit down."

Erica watched with adolescent fascination as the woman folded her long slim legs into the chair, arranged her bags on the floor beside her, and scooted the chair around. Finished with her settling in, she directed her green gaze back to Erica, who had just in time closed her mouth. "Well, hi. Thanks for the seat. My feet were killing me. Where you headed?"

Thank God it was a question that didn't require too many words. "Baltimore."

"Oh yeah? Me, too. Headed home. How 'bout you? Do you live there?" The waitress had by this time arrived at the table. The stranger pointed to Erica's glass and asked with a quirked eyebrow, "Merlot?"

Erica nodded mutely. Wait, what was she again? Oh, yes, a _brilliant surgeon_. She wondered if she looked as dumb as she felt.

If this woman noticed anything funny about the way her new tablemate was acting, she never let on. "I'll have one of those. Thank you. So," the woman continued, turning back to Erica as the waitress departed, "where were we? Oh, you from Baltimore?"

"No, no. I've been in Seattle. Going east for a job. Or at least _I hope _a job. Johns Hopkins."

The woman nodded knowingly, clearly familiar with the famous name. "In the medical profession, are you?"

"Cardiothoracic surgeon, actually."

Now the redhead fell back in her chair, placed her hand over her heart, fluttered her eyelids and exclaimed in a mock Southern accent, "Be still, my beating heart. Not just a doctor, but a _heart surgeon_. My momma would be so proud." This was followed by light musical laughter that had Erica's stomach doing somersaults.

_Dumbsquizzled_ was about the only word that could describe the whole of Erica's reaction. Speech completely abandoned her, while adrenaline ramped up threefold, causing her hands to shake, and sweat broke out along her hairline. It was all she could do to remain in her chair.

And it was all perfectly ridiculous, Erica chided herself, but even as she fought to regain control of her body's runaway reaction, the woman reached over and, as naturally as if she'd been doing it all her life, gave Erica's hand a quick squeeze, and offered an apology.

"Hon, I'm sorry. I do that to new people all the time. My friends say I'm an incorrigible flirt and I guess they're right. Besides, has anyone ever told you you're cute when you're flabbergasted?" She tagged this question with a one-shoulder shrug and a wink. "I'm Veronica, by the way. Veronica Taylor. But you can call me Ronnie. And you are?"

This should have been easy, but for the life of her, Erica could not get her own name past her lips, too obsessed with what the woman had just said. Her friends called her an incorrigible flirt and she guessed she was? And furthermore, _did she _wink_ at me and say I was _cute_?_

Good Lord, how could this be? That in a crowded airport bar in St. Louis, she should end up sitting across from a perfect stranger (correction, a perfect female stranger, emphasis on the _perfect female _part), who was clearly flirting with her. What, did she have a lavender "L" on her forehead? Was there some kind of radar? How could this woman possibly know Erica might even be remotely interested?

And then a thought occurred to Erica, one that immediately eased her discomfort and brought a faint smile to her lips. She marveled that in all her born days – not even with Callie – she had _never_ gone so fast from one emotional state to another. It was weird, and new, but it wasn't bad, and it gave her courage she might otherwise not have had. _How could this be, huh? Well, this _could be_ about as easily as one could kiss a woman in an elevator. And that was certainly accomplished easily enough._

In short, what it came down to was this: If it feels right, you just haul forth and do it. If she'd learned anything from Callie, in spite of the pain Callie had caused, she'd learned that life was far too short to spend it entirely in an OR.

Brightening up her smile, Erica stretched out her hand. "I'm Erica. Erica Hahn. And it's very nice to meet you, Ronnie."

End.

_Your enticing laughter –  
__That indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast.  
__For whenever I look at you even briefly,  
__I can no longer say a single thing._

-- Sappho, 630 B.C.


	2. Baltimore

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 2  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: PG

Chapter 2 Summary: Hahn's plane arrives in Baltimore. Erica's lesbianism doesn't make it any easier for her to be friendly, but it _does_ add a new wrinkle to things. Pronouns are discussed.

Author's Note: This is a story about Erica Hahn finding another "pair of glasses" after the events of the S5 episode, "Rise Up." This chapter was written in late February, 2009. Thanks to Jules68 for her honest and objective opinions. See Chapter 1 for original Author's Notes and Disclaimer.

Chapter 2 Disclaimer: "Odd accents" and overuse of the word "hon" are strictly Baltimorean.

**

* * *

**Since this was not the fantasy of television, Erica Hahn didn't end up sitting next to Veronica Taylor on the plane to Baltimore, so they did not fall madly in love over Ohio, nor begin planning a wedding replete with everything from rice to registries.

Instead, Erica ended up next to a middle-aged balding man who, once seated, passed out and snored until the plane's touchdown awakened him with a startled grunt. Oddly enough, his snoring didn't bother Erica, given she was totally preoccupied with thoughts of a slender redhead sitting somewhere else on the plane.

Back in St. Louis, their flight had been called before they'd had a chance to exchange anything more than their names and the facts that Veronica "Ronnie" Taylor worked at a brokerage firm in downtown Baltimore, near the waterfront, and Erica was of course headed for an interview at Johns Hopkins.

As they were walking together down the plane's walkway, Veronica had managed to provide one more thing, a thing Erica held in her hand the entirety of the flight. It was an unadorned business card that contained on its reverse Veronica's home and cell phone numbers. As the plane hit the runway at BWI, Erica glanced at the card and was dismayed to find her sweating palm had smudged the numbers. A closer look brought relief that they hadn't been smeared beyond recognition. Shaking her head to clear the hormonal fog this relief engendered, she jammed the little card into her coat pocket and huffed in frustration. Her reaction to Veronica Taylor was all out of character for her, making her a little bit nuts, and above all, distracting her from the job interview that should have been foremost in her mind.

Thankfully, the guy next to her was busy righting himself for disembarking, so Erica was spared an audience for her show of annoyance. As the plane braked to a halt and the pilot thanked everyone for flying with his sainted airline, Erica gathered her belongings and her wits, and resisted the urge to look around for Veronica.

Turned out she needn't have bothered about any of it. Veronica, clearly on the hunt for Erica, came hurrying up to her as Erica waited by the baggage carousel.

"Doctor Hahn! _There_ you are, thank God! I swear, I got up twenty times looking for you. If we hadn't entered the plane together, I would've said you weren't on board!" By this time, she had arrived at Erica's side and was holding out another business card. "Here," she said, "I realized I gave you the wrong cell number. That's my business phone, which you would have discovered if you had tried it, and I wanted you to have my personal number. I wrote down my landline at home again, too."

"Thanks." Erica took the card, once again rendered monosyllabic by the vivacious young woman. Veronica continued talking as her eyes scanned the now-grinding carousel, hoping along with everyone else that her luggage might be first off.

"So where are you staying and are you going to wait until you find out if you have the job before going back to Seattle?"

"I'm not going back to Seattle." It was out of her mouth before she realized she'd said it, and Veronica immediately stopped her scanning to look square into Erica's face. Though Erica tried to keep her expression neutral, it was clear whatever Veronica saw there was far too easily recognizable.

"Oh, my God. What was her name, the little bitch. I'll go kill her for you, how's that?"

Luggage rumbled by unnoticed, reality stepped back, and Erica turned her head away, looking up at the people walking across the bridge to the parking garage. A woman with a baby in a purple sling, a sharp-dressed guy rolling a suitcase the size of a refrigerator, a uniformed airport worker. In spite of her dissociation, Erica heard Veronica's attempt to lighten the moment. Forcing her gaze back, Erica managed a tiny smile and a huff of amusement. "I appreciate the offer, but…" Belatedly, Erica realized exactly which pronoun Veronica had used. This was personal information they had not shared in the airport bar – at least not out loud. "_Her_? H-how did you…?"

Veronica placed a hand on Erica's arm. "Hon, I knew the moment I saw you. And don't ask me how, either. It's another of those things my friends say I'm famous for." She leaned in and winked conspiratorially, "It's called 'gaydar,' doncha know." Veronica straightened up, patted Erica's arm as if what she'd just said was not an earth-shattering revelation, and returned to luggage lookout. "So, which hotel? We're within spittin' distance of downtown. If you're going there, how 'bout I just take you?"

Erica heard all Veronica had said, but she'd stalled on _gaydar_. Good Lord, she thought, maybe she _did_ have a lavender 'L' on her forehead. Clearly, there was much to learn on this front, but an airport baggage claim area was not the place for a lesson. Deciding it was better to stay on firmer ground, Erica responded to Veronica's invitation."Oh, no, I mean, yes, I'm going downtown, but you don't need to take me. I was planning to rent a car. Just to get around. You know, for the interview and all."

Veronica snickered. "Know your way around Baltimore, do you?"

Erica was caught again by this woman's directness, but this time it brought out her usual brusqueness. "Not so much," she snapped, "but I _have_ a map, and I _am_ a grown woman."

"Oh, here's my luggage, hooray! Excuse me." Veronica maneuvered around an older couple and reached onto the moving carousel to snatch her suitcase before it rumbled too far past, heaving it to her side. "Whew. There. See yours yet?"

Erica had by this time forgotten she was even _supposed_ to be watching for her suitcase, figuring it had gone around two hundred times by now. Glancing ahead on the grumbling feat of ancient engineering, she saw her bag slowly coming her way. "There it is. The black one with the yellow ribbon."

The redhead never hesitated. "Got it!"

Just as Veronica picked up Erica's suitcase, the carousel ground to a halt. Another flight number buzzed onto the board, and the rotation started up again as a new planeload of people flooded into the cramped area. The two women quickly found an open spot outside the press of people.

"Now then, where were we? Oh, yes, I was offering you a ride to your hotel, and you were getting all pissy about it. I'm sorry, okay? You want to rent a car, go ahead and rent a car. I just thought I'd save you some trouble and expense. You're new in town, I like you, and I'm trying to be friendly here."

Erica recognized defeat when it was beating her over the head. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by circumstances both in and out of her control, she recalled what Callie had taught her about being spontaneous and allowing people to befriend her. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, too. I'd appreciate the lift, Veronica–"

"Ronnie, please."

"_Ronnie_. I'm at the Intercontinental Harbor Court Hotel."

"Oo, nice digs. And," she winked, "a short taxi ride to Hopkins." She glanced down. "Have we got everything? Yes? Okay, let's roll! And, hon, if you're so darned anxious to pay for a vehicle, you can pay my satellite parking fee. How's that?"

End Chapter 2

**oOo oOo oOo**

_There is something I find in being with you,  
__That is lost to me elsewhere._

-- Lauriel Mariondatter, from the poem "In Being With You"


	3. Babydyke

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 3  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: PG

Chapter 3 Summary: On the ride from the airport to the hotel, Erica learns that out lesbians can be a refreshing change of pace. This is a short one.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for Author's Notes and Disclaimers.

**

* * *

**

In the car on the way downtown, Erica risked the pronoun conversation. "I know you said not to ask, but tell me about your 'gaydar.' I mean, I'm new at this, but what you said matched what I'd been thinking in the airport when you were, uh, flirting with me."

"Which was what?"

"That there was some sort of radar."

Veronica laughed musically. "Well, there ya go, you were right. Except us queers, we call it 'gaydar.' Honest to God, I kid you not, it's real, and I have yet to be wrong about someone and that's no lie. And what's that about your being 'new to this?' I'd've never guessed – hell, I _didn't_ guess. When I asked to sit with you in the airport, it was specifically _because_ I thought you wuz a big ol' dyke like me."

Erica shook her head and blew out a puff of air. This woman was as bold as brass and would clearly take some getting used to. But Erica was not without her own brand of boldness. "Well, Callie – that's her name, by the way – Callie described us as 'lesbian virgins.'"

Veronica made a sound of disgust. "Riight. I'm guessing you're about as virginal as one of the girls on the Block. If you're looking for a label, how 'bout we call you a 'babydyke?' Adorable, innit?"

Erica put a hand over her face and shook her head. "Tell me you're not serious. I'm forty-one years old! And what the heck is the Block?"

Veronica adopted an odd accent. "You never heard of the Block, hon? Only Bawlmer's renowned red light district, I guess. Famous the world over. Tourists flock to it, to do more than just gawk, if you get my drift."

Now Veronica's laughter was raucous and infectious, and Erica couldn't help but join in. When the laughter subsided, Erica sighed and without truly understanding why said, "Thank you, Ronnie." Once again the redhead's intuition about deeper meaning was made clear.

Without taking her eyes off the road, Veronica reached over and patted Erica's knee. "There ya go, doc. Laughter, as you should well know, is the best medicine."

End Chapter 3

**oOo oOo oOo**

'_Twas brillig, and the slithy toves,  
__Did gyre and gamble in the wabe:  
__All mimsy were the borogoves,  
__And the mome raths outgrabe._

-- Lewis Carroll, from the poem "Jabberwocky"


	4. Grief

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 4  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Pairing: PG

Chapter 4 Summary: A friendship begins and is all kinds of good, but Erica's grief finally catches up with her – as we all knew it would. Her new friend, Veronica, takes good care. Classic hurt/comfort.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for Author's Notes and Disclaimers.

**

* * *

**

Veronica pulled up behind a taxi at the entrance to the hotel, popped the trunk, and said, "Welcome to the Inner Harbor, Doctor Hahn. I hope you enjoy your stay in Charm City. Steer clear of the Block."

Erica peered through the car window, seeing sparkling water held back by a wide brick promenade landscaped with seasonal flowers and lined with famous-named restaurants, shops, and a strikingly-designed visitor center and science museum. "My God, this is beautiful! I had no idea Baltimore's waterfront was so developed. It's been a long time since I've been here."

"Whoa, mule! You've _been_ here? Then what was all that yapping about big girl and maps and not knowing about the Block? Hey, were you just coming on to me? You vixen, you're no babydyke!"

Erica waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. "No, no, I'm still a damn _babydyke_. I didn't mean to mislead you. I was here years ago, in another life, really, but it's why I'm here again. I went to school at Johns Hopkins, and I barely went anywhere _but_ school and sometimes to bed, both of which were within walking distance of each other and not this close to the water. Besides, I'm pretty sure it didn't look like this when I was here."

"So I guess that means you _weren't_ coming on to me, huh?" Veronica made a moue of disappointment.

Erica just shook her head.

"Eh, I forgive you, doc, since I can only imagine what circle of hell medical school must've been, plus things are always changing around here, anyway." Veronica opened the car door and stepped out. "C'mon, let me help with your stuff."

**oOo oOo oOo**

Erica's reservation kept check-in from being complicated, and in a few minutes, the women found themselves outside a door on the nineteenth floor. Awkwardness reared its ugly head, and though the feeling was familiar from her first days with Callie, Erica realized her current situation was nowhere near the same. Still, her tongue stumbled over what to say. "I-uh…"

"Good grief, Doctor Hahn, you're about as transparent as glass, you know that? Fear not. I'm a perfect lady. I won't take advantage of your babydyke status," she teased, "unless of course you want me to. Deal?"

Oh yes, Erica decided, she had _gobs_ to learn on this front. Thankfully, however, the awkwardness was gone and speech had returned. "Deal. And would you please stop calling me 'Doctor Hahn?'" Erica slid the key card smoothly into the lock and the door signaled green. She pressed the handle, pushed open the door, and moved into the room, Veronica right behind her.

"Sure thing, _Air-ree-kah_." Veronica went immediately to the window and pulled open the drapes. "_Sweet_ view. Now this here's the way to look at the water. Not nearly so filthy from this height. And look there," she pointed outward, "you can see the Key Bridge clearly from here."

Erica rolled her suitcase to the edge of the bed, let it go, and walked to stand beside Veronica. "Very pretty." She pointed to her right, to a big hill with a huge American flag whipping in the wind at the top. "Federal Hill, right? It was an outlook point during the War of 1812 and the Civil War. Supposedly near where Francis Scott Key wrote much of what is now our country's national anthem."

"Hey, good job. You _did_ pay attention when you were here last, didn't you? Ever been to an O's game?"

"Excuse me?"

"The _O_'s, girl. The Orioles! The Birds! The _professional baseball_ team? Veronica raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Tell me you went to at least _one_ ball game during your tenure at school."

"Sorry, no."

"Lord. Well, then, my little story won't pack as much punch, but I'll tell it, anyway." She adopted the odd accent again. "See, hon, Francis Scott Key wrote the National Anthem, and they sing it at the start of every game, but when they get to the line, 'O, say does that star-spangled banner,' the primates in the stands stretch out the 'O' for the Orioles." She dropped the accent. "It bastardizes the song and disrespects the history, but there it is. See? Not punch-y at all."

Erica, only half-listening, continued to stare out the window, watching gulls float lazily on wind currents above the water and people strolling along the promenade, some hand-in-hand. A deep sigh escaped her.

"Hey there, doc." Veronica playfully punched Erica on the arm. "Remembering that Callie wench again, are you? You just say the word, and she's dead as a doornail, whatever the hell _that_ means."

Erica smiled and turned from the window to sit on the end of the bed. "I know what that means. I had an uncle who was a carpenter. It's a standard carpentry term, called _clinching_. It means to hammer a nail through a door and then flatten the end over on the inside so it can't be removed again, making it _dead_." Erica lowered her eyes to the bedspread and absently began picking at a stray thread. "Callie's not entirely to blame. It was my fault, too."

To her credit, Veronica didn't encourage Erica. Coming to sit beside her, Veronica said, "Hey, listen, I'm impressed you knew about the doornail thing, but you don't have to tell me anything about what happened. I'm just trying to be a friend, a _new_ friend certainly, but ya gotta start somewhere, right? It's all right, you don't need to say anything."

Erica shook her head. "No, it's okay. You've been very nice, not to mention entertaining, and it's not that I think I owe you, it's just that Callie and I were friends first, which was hard enough for me, but she was my _person_, the one I told everything to. Hell, she was the one who made me realize I was gay.

"The morning that happened, the gay thing? I didn't hold back, you know? I didn't think I _had_ to. It was just such a liberating feeling to finally understand what had been so damned _off _about my life. I just came barreling out, telling her how gay, gay, gay I was, with this stupid, _stupid_ story about when I was young and got my first pair of glasses. I told her I could see leaves afterwards, leaves that I thought were just green blobs before. I told her she was my 'glasses,' the one who enabled me to 'see my gayness.'

"But, Callie…it was too much for her. S-she walked out on me without a word, I mean, she left me in _bed_. Then later w-we had this big…disagreement...about hospital business, and this time _I_ walked away from _her_. And now I don't…I haven't…I don't have anyone to…" Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, along with a terrible ache in her throat. In the space of a fluttering heartbeat, Erica was no longer able to keep her grief at bay, knowing full well that all she'd been doing up to this point was delaying the inevitable. It was upsetting to Erica that she should arrive at this vulnerable moment in front of someone she barely knew, but she could not stop the hot tears from falling. Turning from Veronica to save what little face she could, Erica pounded her thighs with her fists and let it all go.

**oOo oOo oOo**

It was clear Veronica understood this particular brand of sorrow. She remained silent and still beside Erica, neither touching nor talking, until Erica began to collapse by degrees onto the bed. When that happened, Veronica reached for her, saying, "Aw, c'mere, hon," and then with Erica fully in her arms, murmured more to herself than to Erica, "God damn it, no matter how old we get, the damn heartache's _always_ the same."

End Chapter 4

**oOo oOo oOo**

_The tears that drip from my bewildered eyes,__  
Taste of bittersweet romance.__  
You're still in my hopes, you're still on my mind,__  
And even though I know I'll manage on my own…_

_My heart is low, my heart is so low,__  
As only a woman's heart can be._

_When restless eyes reveal my troubled soul,__  
And memories flood my weary heart,__  
I mourn for my dreams, I mourn for my wasted love,__  
And while I know that I'll survive alone…_

_My heart is low, my heart is so low,__  
As only a woman's heart can be._

-- Mary Black, from the song "Only A Woman's Heart"


	5. Clearer Eyes, Bluer Skies

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 5  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Pairing: PG

Chapter 5 Summary: Erica moves through her sadness to find light on the other side. She and Veronica get down to some serious talking. Then they go for a traditional Baltimore meal. Pass me that mallet, wouldya?

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for Author's Notes and Disclaimers. Cris Williamson, thank you a thousand times for "Waterfall."

**

* * *

**

It seemed to Erica that many hours had passed, but in reality it had only been about twenty minutes. Her world had spiraled down to an enveloping warmth, a steady heartbeat and a curious vibration beneath her head. It was not until another few minutes had gone by that Erica realized she was in Veronica Taylor's arms and that Veronica was singing softly, stroking her hair, and rocking gently, much like a mother would do to comfort a frightened child. Another minute passed before Erica could make out the words Veronica was singing.

"Sometimes it takes a rainy day/Just to let you know/Everything's gonna be all right, all right.

"I've been dreaming in the sun/Won't you wake me up someone/I need a little peace of mind.

"When you open up your life to the living/All things come spilling in on you/And you're flowing like a river/The changer and the changed/You've got to spill some over.

"Filling up and spilling over/It's an endless waterfall/Filling up and spilling over/Over all."

Erica stirred and felt Veronica's arms open immediately, her singing abruptly stopping. "Hey there, doc, welcome back. How ya doing? Feeling better? I bet you are, getting that poison out of you."

Erica pushed herself to a sitting position, still embarrassed over her loss of control. "I-I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. I don't know what came over me." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, offering a weak smile.

Veronica leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand, handing it to Erica. "You're kidding, right? _Life_ came over you. Tell me, what'd you do, go straight from your _disagreement_ with Callie to the airport?"

Erica applied the tissue to her nose, her voice distorted with the effort. "Just about. How'd you know to even _ask _that?"

"Let's just say I've been there, or somewhere nearby. Not for many years, thank God, but I've been through it. I like to think it's a rite of passage for gay people because it's all muddied up with sexual identity, first time loves, and coming out, but it probably isn't. Straight people have similar woes. Are you going to call her?"

Erica balled the tissue and tossed it toward the wastebasket, where it landed on the floor beside it. "No. Yes. I don't know. I haven't really thought about it yet."

"You should, you know. Call her. I mean, much as I'd love to just smack her one for breaking your heart, it sounds to me like she was pretty significant in your life. She outed you, fergodssake! That's not nothing, you know. If you're not going back to Seattle, she probably deserves a phone call, if for no other reason than to provide some closure.

"But lemmie ask you this. You said she wasn't happy about the gay thing, but she still slept with you? What's _that_ about? Didn't she also say you were lesbian virgins? I'm no expert, but I _am_ pretty damned queer. I know it usually goes better if you're either gay or straight. Being both is great in theory, but it's hard to manage in real life, know what I mean?"

Erica, who had by this time slid off the bed and was standing, said, "Yeah, I do, and that's sort of what I told Callie. Um, I mean, that she couldn't 'kind of' be a lesbian. But she said she could. Hang on a sec." Erica turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Two seconds later, she heard Veronica on the other side of the door.

"Here's the thing. In my not-so-humble opinion, bisexuals have it rough. Everyone else is insisting they have to get off the fence, pick one or the other. Anyone who's with a bisexual person ends up feeling insecure about the relationship for a million reasons on _both_ sides of the sexual coin. It's exhausting, and trust me, I know from exhausting."

Inside the bathroom, Erica could think of no response, since Veronica had basically nailed what she'd been through with Callie, and then decided to employ one of Veronica's tactics. "I can think of no response to that." She heard chuckling through the door.

"Sheeyeah…maybe some time when we're drunk on our asses, ask me about sweet Abigail. God, she was precious, but she about killed me with her love of the dick."

Erica sat slack-jawed, thankful Veronica couldn't see her, and took a moment to wonder if this was the way all lesbians talked, or if this was unique to Veronica. Erica suspected it might be Veronica, but she had no way to know for sure – at least not until she met a few more lesbians. _Which might be sooner than I expect, considering how out this woman is_.

Finishing up, Erica turned to the sink and nearly gave herself a heart attack when she raised her head to the mirror. Her face was a tear-stained mess, her hair even worse. She could not leave this bathroom without tidying up and wished she'd thought to bring her toilette bag in with her. She would have to go and get it.

Out in the room pulling the small bag from her suitcase, Erica felt a need to explain. "I'm a fright," she said, waving her hand in the vicinity of her head. "I just want to freshen up a little."

"I hear you, doc. I _have_ seen you looking fresher. Oh, don't look at me that way, I'm just kidding!"

"Fine. I'll be done in a minute."

"Hey, you hungry? What the heck time is it? Maybe we should get some dinner. There are certainly plenty of restaurants right nearby, not to mention the hotel's."

Erica, in the bathroom again, but this time with the door open a crack, said, "It's only four-thirty, but I could eat. You're the native. What's good?"

"You like steamed crabs?"

"Never tried 'em."

"Really? Wow. Shit. Hurry up then. We're going to Phillips. It's late in the season, but I bet Phillips still has 'em. Good thing we're early; this is going to take a while. Besides, now I need the potty, so get out of there."

**oOo oOo oOo**

Erica Hahn could not recall eating anything as messy or as hard to negotiate as a Maryland steamed crab. By the end of the meal – if you could even call it that – she smelled like a fish market and was up to her armpits in Old Bay seasoning.

She was also up to her eyeballs in Pinot Grigio, so the whole endeavor had been really quite pleasant. She thought of Callie only once, after she and Veronica had clinked glasses to new friendships, but after that, there was no comparison. Veronica Taylor was so at ease with herself, she was a joy to be around. Plus she was a certified expert at what she called "picking" a crab, and with each crab and each sip of wine, the lessons became more hysterical. They even had neighboring tables joining in on the merriment.

The walk back to Erica's hotel had been just as rollicking, especially when a couple of guys tried to pick them up. Erica made a mental note she knew she'd never remember to ask Veronica just what it was Veronica had whispered to the guys to get them to leave. Whatever it was, they left without a bit of rancor; in fact, they waved and wished Veronica good luck.

Good luck?

End Chapter 5

**oOo oOo oOo  
**_  
Yea crab…crab, crustacean delight,__  
You offer us joy at your hot, steamy sight._

-- Bill Brown, from the poem "Ode to the Crab"


	6. Braving the Jungle

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 6  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: M

Chapter 6 Summary: Erica braves the true "rubyfruit jungle." This is more suggestive than descriptive, if you get my drift, but I think it qualifies as hot enough.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for Author's Notes and Disclaimers. Thank you, Rita Mae Brown.

**

* * *

**

They reached Erica's room without further testosterone encounters, laughing all the way. Miraculously, Erica remembered to ask Veronica what it was she had said to the guys.

"Aw, c'mon, Erica," Veronica whined, closing the room's drapes, "don't make me tell. That's my new best secret."

Erica, again peeing in the bathroom, but this time with the door wide open, made clucking noises at her.

"Okay then. Here's what I said, but you're not gonna like it. I said 'Boys, you're cute as hell, but I've got me a lesbian virgin and I'm hoping to get lucky tonight.' So now you know. Think I'm a cad? Really, though, I was just trying to get rid of them without making them angry. And it worked, didn't it?"

Erica stood, bent to pull up her clothing, swayed on the way back up, and fell back onto the toilet seat. She was more than just a little buzzed, and this was dangerous. Doubly so, because now she couldn't remember what Veronica had just said. She tested standing again, this time slowly, and managed to get to the sink, wash her hands, and exit the bathroom without falling over. "Ronnie?"

Veronica was sitting in the easy chair beside the bed, head back, stocking feet propped up on the bed. "Yes, Erica?"

"You're drunk, right?"

"Sure am. Why? Wanna ask me about sweet Abby?"

"Huh? Wait. Who?"

"Oh boy, I think you're drunker than I am."

Erica fell heavily onto the bed beside Veronica's feet, recalling her incident in the bathroom. "I think I'd have to agree with you there."

Veronica placed her feet on the floor, stood (not at all unsteadily), and brought Erica to her feet. "It's been a very long day, hasn't it? As we've determined, I'm drunk, and as such, I gotta tell ya, I'm sorely tempted to do naughty things to you, because you're quite beautiful, but I promised, didn't I?"

Looking into darkening emerald eyes in a face framed by thick mahogany hair, Erica absorbed the compliment and wondered why her internal alarms weren't going off. They had certainly jangled in the airport, not to mention plenty of times with Callie. But, no, all was quiet. It could have been the alcohol, but Erica didn't think so. "I-I seem to recall your saying you wouldn't take advantage of my 'babydyke' status unless I wanted you to, correct?"

Veronica pretended to think about that. "Why, yes, Doctor Hahn, I believe you _are_ correct. And what a steel-trap mind you have there," she quipped, touching her fingertips to Erica's temple.

Erica lost a heartbeat with Veronica's touch, but managed to rally enough for a snappy comeback. "It's gotta be. I'm a first-rate cardiothoracic surgeon."

Veronica snorted. "Not right now you ain't."

"Ronnie?"

"Yes, Erica?"

"I want you to."

And still Veronica hesitated. "Hon, much as I'd love to – and believe me, I'd _really _love to – I don't think it's a good idea. I'd just be a rebound fling, anyway. You haven't even thought about whether or not you're going to call Callie, and you have a job interview tomorrow. So, you know—"

Erica, watching Veronica's lips but not really hearing her, decided it was about time she tried her lesbianism on for size. She wanted to see what it felt like to kiss a woman who already knew how to kiss a woman, to see if kissing a woman who already knew how to kiss a woman would feel any different from kissing a woman who didn't. Okay, the wine was fuzzing up her brain, but not her intentions. Erica leaned in and deftly cut Veronica off.

It took only this for Erica to realize this kiss was _nothing_ like the kisses Erica had received from Callie. Callie's had been earnest but tentative, filled with yearning but little depth or passion. Veronica, on the other hand, groaned like she'd found nirvana and encircled Erica with her arms, pulling Erica tightly against her, pressing her knee between Erica's legs, and generally not messing around. Their teeth clashed once, but after that it was all silk and fire and crab seasoning. Veronica's hands began to roam, and she never stopped making luscious little groaning sounds that were driving Erica insane and making her _very _wet.

If this was what it felt like to have another woman want you because you _were_ a woman, not because you _happened to be _a woman, then making love with this slender redheaded beauty had become Erica's sole desire. Pulling her lips from Veronica's with an audible sound, she said in a breathless whisper, "Please, Ronnie, take advantage of me, take _full_ advantage. The bed's here, we're here. If this is a rebound fling, I'm okay with it, as long as you are."

Veronica, already snaking her hand down the front of Erica's pants, smiled when she hit Erica's sodden curls, smiled again as she edged her fingers deeper and Erica inhaled sharply. "Hon, forgive me, but I've been hoping all day to hear you say that."

End Chapter 6

**oOo oOo oOo**

_Women kissing women is beautiful.__  
And women making love together is dynamite._

-- Rita Mae Brown, from her book "Rubyfruit Jungle"

_Virginity, virginity, where have you fled from me?  
__Never again will I return, never to thee._

-- Sappho, 630 B.C.


	7. Cotton Undies

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 7  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: Top-of-the-line M

Chapter 7 Summary: _The moment_ has arrived for Erica and Veronica. Okay, it could be argued that it's unrealistic for it (_the moment_, that is) to have arrived so soon for these two. But I don't think so, based of course on my vast personal experience – har! Still, these are adult women. While one of 'em might be a little nervous, neither are exactly frightened of each other. So I'm sticking with my idea.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for original Author's Notes and Disclaimers.

**

* * *

**

Veronica leaned to Erica's ear and whispered, "You're very wet."

Somewhere on the rim of her awareness, Erica knew Veronica's comment was meant to encourage her to become wetter, which it did, but her wine-fogged brain also connected the remark to one Veronica had made earlier, and that sparked a less-than-idyllic response.

Veronica couldn't help but notice. She pulled back, clearly puzzled, but more curious than upset. Her hand stilled in Erica's pants, but didn't come out of them, nor did she break their embrace. "And _what_," she asked, "might I be so bold as to ask, is so funny?"

Erica mimicked the voice she heard in her head. "'I've got me a lesbian virgin, and I'm hoping to get lucky tonight,'" and began to laugh outright, right there, with Veronica's hand down her pants. "Oh my God, I'm sorry! You know, I barely heard it when you said it, but now it just popped fully into my head! Must be the wine. I was _ready_, I was, wasn't I? I'm so sorry." Veronica began to extract her hand, but Erica stopped her. "Oh…_don't_."

"Oh, well, okay, Doc," Veronica said, still playing at being upset, her fingers combing through Erica's damp curls, "but it seems to me like the mood's been spoiled by _someone_'s," and here she gently tugged curls for emphasis, "inappropriate laughter."

"Ow! No, no, it hasn't." Erica brought her hand up to splay her fingers against Veronica's cheek. "Please, I'm not laughing now. Please."

Veronica smiled. "I think I like it when you beg."

"_Please_."

The smiled broadened. "All right, hon, let's start again. I'll need my hand back for a minute, but after that it's all yours. That work for you?"

"That works. But just for a minute."

Veronica removed her hand and Erica stood watching as the redhead leaned over the bed and carefully drew back the bedspread and sheet. Then she plumped up the pillows and clicked on the bedside lamp, which cast a muted, compact-fluorescent glow. She straightened and turned to Erica, hand already at the top button of her own shirt. "Watch carefully. And if you start laughing again, I'm kicking you out, even though it's your room."

Erica smiled, nodded toward the turned-down bed. "Mind if I sit?"

"Please do." Veronica had by this time removed her shirt and shoes and was stepping out of her pants.

Erica, seeing white cotton briefs and matching bra, flashed on a memory of Callie in fire-engine-red lace lingerie. It wasn't until she felt Veronica's hand cupping her chin that Erica realized she had left the moment. "No fair, Doctor Hahn. I can't compete with a memory." Veronica straightened and added, "Don't look at me that way. I told you I've been in your place, so I know what's in your head. Listen, hon," she sighed, "you're gorgeous and I want to touch you so badly I can taste it, but thing is, I've been telling you all day that maybe this isn't such a good idea, and this is a perfect reason why." She went still, arms splayed, palms out.

Erica marveled again at how open Veronica was, how unafraid she was to say exactly what was on her mind, and this only increased Erica's desire. "But it _is_ a good idea. Wait. Let me show you." Erica stood, toed off her shoes and properly undid her pants, allowing them to drop to her ankles.

Erica could see by the look on Veronica's face that this was quite enough to convince Veronica that she meant business. Reaching for Erica, Veronica whispered, "Allow me." She unbuttoned Erica's shirt, slid it off her shoulders and stepped back to drape it carefully over the back of the easy chair. Then she bent and picked up the pants as Erica stepped out of them, folding them and placing them on top of the shirt. Turning back to Erica and raising an eyebrow, Veronica observed, "Now _those_ are nice panties. Me?" She said, gesturing to her own unmentionables as she moved back into Erica's personal space, "What can I say? I'm a sucker for cotton underwear. It's comfy and absorbent. Feel for yourself."

This time, skin met skin (and cotton) without comic distraction. Gaining the bed, the women arranged limbs in a comfortable tangle and began serious necking. As previously established, they were not teenagers, nor remotely virginal, and the act of kissing had already proved to be satisfyingly sweet.

In very little time, Erica felt her body warm with Veronica's full-body contact, relaxing into bliss in a way she had not experienced with Callie. As Veronica nuzzled her neck, one hand teasing the elastic on the waistband of Erica's panties, Erica felt compelled to voice this. "I have to tell you. You're not like Callie. This is not…not like—"

"No," Veronica murmured, raising up on her arms to look down at Erica, not allowing her to finish the thought. "I'm not like Callie. And you're not like any woman I've ever been with. And that's what's so wonderful. Kiss me now, Erica Hahn, and quiet yourself."

After a moment, Erica felt Veronica's hand again worrying the waistband of her panties. This time, Erica raised her hips in a classic gesture of permission, and Veronica slid the panties over her hips and down as far as she could without breaking the kiss. One final shift of limbs and Erica's panties were on the floor. Without pause, Veronica cupped Erica's mound and sank one finger into her.

"Oh my God, Doc."

Erica moaned and instinctively opened her legs wider. In turn, Veronica mewled in delight, a sound that when Erica heard it, completed a circle of sensation for her that became a preamble to climax. Her hips rose from the mattress in an attempt to guide Veronica to a more carnal touch.

But it was clear Veronica had other ideas, because she ceased her stroking, bringing her hand into Erica's hair. Erica, catching her own scent as Veronica's hand passed her face, immediately protested. "No, no. Don't stop, please, don't stop. I'm close. You know I'm close." Erica squirmed against Veronica, searching for the beautiful ache that was already beginning to fade. "No, no."

"My sweet doctor, don't fret," Veronica purred, "I'm not stopping. I'm just…changing my method of assault." Veronica began to shift her body downward, stopping only to run her tongue into the cleavage created by the bra Erica still wore, and then further down to swirl it into Erica's navel. Bringing her hand back down, Veronica began methodically stroking along the smooth, sensitive skin of Erica's inner thigh, moving to settle herself between Erica's legs, inhaling deeply and saying softly, "How sweet, like sugar you are."

Veronica's comment, clearly meant to be an expression of pleasure, triggered an odd trifecta of emotions in Erica. Awareness, arousal, and apprehension warred with an intensity that scared Erica and robbed her of breath. Bracing herself on her elbows, Erica lifted her shoulders from the bed and struggled to fill her lungs. "Ronnie." Veronica either didn't hear her or was so focused that she _couldn't_, and Erica's apprehension grew. She felt like a child, thinking _babydyke_, but was frantic to make Veronica hear her. "Ronnie!"

This time Veronica raised her head, and Erica could see her eyes were glazed, her attention clearly elsewhere. Belatedly, as if returning to the bed from some faraway place, Veronica blinked and spoke. "Erica?"

Her heart still racing, Erica balanced on one arm and reached the other out toward the red hair. "Ronnie, wait. I-I don't know if I'm…that is, I've never been comfort…" She took a deep breath to steady herself, preparing to make herself understood.

Veronica had by this time leaned forward enough for Erica's hand to touch her and was clearly aware of Erica's distress. "Erica, my God, I'm moving too fast, aren't I? I'm sorry, I got a little carried away. I'll stop." Untangling Erica's hand from her hair, she sat back on her heels, waited a beat, and added with mirth, "So…you're saying you and Callie never went muff diving?"

Veronica's question, whether calculated to ease Erica's panic or not, did exactly that. Laughing, Erica fell back on the bed. "I swear the way you talk is like nothing I've ever heard before. _What_ did you just call it?"

"Muff diving. And clearly we gots to gets you around some more lesbians _tout de suite_ before you think I'm some kind of pervert."

Even as Erica laughed, a new emotion began to assert itself. Raising up again to look at Veronica, Erica nodded and let her legs fall wide so that Veronica would not mistake her willingness. "Go ahead, Ron, dive into my, er, muff."

Veronica brought her weight forward, smiled, and rested her hands to either side of Erica's thighs. "Oh, hon, you absolutely sure? Much as I love doing this, I don't _need_ to. And I'm certainly not gonna if you're uncomfortable. That's the last thing I want. And just for the record, you're the only one I will ever allow to call me Ron."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry! I meant to say Ronnie. I-I'm sorry, I—"

"Hey there, calm down. It's okay if you call me Ron, because I'm pretty sure you know it's not short for _Ronald_. So let's get back to the muff diving, shall we?"

Erica fell back on the bed, huffing in amusement, figuring it was high time she matched a few of Veronica's antics. Astounded that this would even occur to her, Erica made a whooping sound, a terrifically bad imitation of submarine's horn, and said, "Dive, dive!"

It was a while before Veronica's laughter slowed to a chuckle, but when it did, Erica felt fingers touching her intimately. Laughter itself ceased, but not the good feeling the laughter had invoked. "Oh, Doc," Veronica said, her mouth following where her fingers had led, "you're quite beautiful here, too."

Erica gasped at the feel of warm breath where none had been felt before. Veronica again began to run her hand along Erica's inner thigh, occasionally combing her fingers through Erica's soaked curls. Closing her eyes, Erica's brilliant mind tried without success to keep up with her body's flight into ecstasy. She felt Veronica trace the product of her arousal up around her hip bones, following the cooling wet trails with warm kisses, her tongue coming close, but never quite touching the place Erica desperately wanted to be touched.

"Oh, please, Ronnie, _please_." Instinct took over again, as Erica's hips moved in an effort to gain more contact. But Veronica wouldn't accommodate her, instead keeping Erica hanging on the brink of rapture, repeatedly bringing her to the summit, but never letting her go over.

Erica wouldn't know until later that she had been saying _please_ over and over and gripping the bottom sheet so hard it had come loose of the mattress. All she knew was the feel of Veronica's mouth and an aching need to climax that only heightened with each pass of Veronica's skilled tongue.

Just at the point when Erica thought she could stand it no longer, when her pleasure began to morph into something closer to pain, Veronica made a subtle change in the speed and direction of her oral caresses. This time she brought Erica to the peak…and then let her tumble over.

All thought vanished as Erica felt the hot, powerful rush of too-long-denied orgasm flood her system, eclipsing consciousness and – though she didn't know it – covering Veronica's cheeks with warm, salty fluid.

**oOo oOo oOo **

_She was on a cot in an on-call room, and someone was shaking her, trying to get her to wake up. She fought it, hoping to grab another ten. She knew the surgery wasn't scheduled till the afternoon. The meeting could wait…_

"Erica, hon? God, you sleep like the dead! Must be a doctor thing. C'mon." Veronica risked shaking Erica harder, trying to get the woman to waken. "I _hate_ to, but I gotta go. You've got a big day tomorrow, and I've got a pair of chocolate labs who may not have peed all over the house yet, but they've surely chewed up the throw rugs by now. Next will come the whining and the making of a terrible racket all over the kitchen floor with the food bowls, and that always upsets the parakeet. Doctor Hahn!"

Snapping awake, thinking emergency, Erica sat up violently and nearly knocked Veronica to the floor. "Holy cow, Doc!" Veronica exclaimed, only just managing to stay on her feet. You're either dead to the world or ready to rumble. Geez, don't you have a medium setting?"

As the world came into focus, Erica realized where she was and with whom. She also noticed that while she sat naked in the bed, Veronica was up and fully dressed. Internal alarms, sensing familiarity, spooled up for sound. "Hey," Erica said, running a hand through her hair and fighting to keep her voice from trembling, "sorry about that. Too many nights on call, I guess." She reached to cover herself with the sheet, unable to stop her eyes from tearing up. "You're leaving?" Try as she might, it was impossible for Erica to escape the still-bleeding memory of her final morning with Callie, even though she knew this wasn't remotely the same.

If Veronica had any idea how the scene appeared to Erica, she was pretending not to. She knelt beside the bed and took Erica's hands away from the sheet, exposing her breasts. Reaching out, she traced a path down between them with a fingernail and smiled. "Believe me, I hate to leave you, but I've got to go. You didn't hear me earlier, because you were out like a light, but I said I have to get home to my dogs before they chew the paint off the walls and flood the place with pee. I repeat," she whispered, leaning in and applying her tongue in a reverse path to the one her fingernail had just taken, "_I hate to leave you_, but reality beckons, and not just for me."

Erica shuddered under Veronica's caresses, her eyes dropping closed, certain systems powering up to replace the panic that was retreating in defeat. Still, the logic of Veronica's words could not be argued with or even ignored, so in spite of her body's spirited rally, Erica opened her eyes and queried, "You have dogs?"

"Yup," Veronica said, returning to her feet with an audible grunt. "Two chocolate labs, brother and sister, three years old. 'Hershey,' and 'Syrup,' what else? I also have a parakeet named Sugar, but every parakeet I've ever owned has been named Sugar. It's a family tradition, so that name doesn't have anything to do with our proximity to The Sweetest Place On Earth®*or the fact that my doggies are 'chocolate.' Anyway, they all need tending, and you need sleep for tomorrow."

"What time is it, anyway? Feels like midnight."

Veronica consulted her watch. "I agree, but no. It's only 9:30. Kiss me goodbye now, find your jammies – if you have any – and call me tomorrow to let me know how it went." She bent to Erica's lips.

As the kiss ended, and Veronica straightened to leave, Erica couldn't stop a heavy sigh. Veronica must have seen something in Erica's face this time that she didn't want to pretend she hadn't. "Uh oh, Doc. I know what you're thinking."

"I don't think so," Erica said, shaking her head. "Not this time."

Veronica took a step back and stood with arms akimbo. "You've never heard the old saw about lesbians, have you? Lord, what am I saying? Of course you haven't! Okay, what's the definition of a lesbian second date? Renting a U-Haul! Oop," Veronica surged forward as Erica pulled the sheet up to cover her face. "Are you laughing under there? God, I hope so!" Veronica tugged the sheet from Erica's grasp, clearly relieved to see Erica was, indeed, chuckling. "Oh, good. But really, Doc, us dykes, we take ourselves too seriously sometimes, thinking we have to set up housekeeping after the first kiss, which is all just a bunch of baloney. Sometimes, sure, we fall into bed together a little too quickly, start a relationship in the middle instead of the beginning, and it doesn't always work out for the best. But sometimes it does. Either way, I don't think that's where you and I are headed.

"Yes, I admit, I flirted with you in the airport bar in St. Louis, and I was happy when I learned you were coming to Baltimore, but I didn't honestly start thinking about the falling into bed part until _after_ I found you at baggage!"

This, of course, prompted more laughter in Erica, which Erica suspected was exactly what Veronica intended. "Ronnie, you're certainly entertaining, but it's more than that. You've been honest and up front with me every step of the way. You warned me about rebound, you voiced hesitation several times, and you promised you'd be 'a perfect lady,' which you have been. But I didn't want you to think I was the kind of woman who did this sort of thing on a regular basis, because I'm not."

"Erica, I got that. In fact, I'm still pretty sure I took advantage of you, even if you did ask me to." Veronica came back to kneel by the bed. "But here's the thing. I don't flirt in airport bars with just anybody. There's got to be a certain amount of…attraction first. Understand?"

"Yes, I do. And I agree."

"That you don't flirt in airport bars unless there's a certain amount of attraction? Wow. No, stop, I know what you meant! That said, I still think you need to get straight with Callie – no pun intended – and maybe meet a few more dykes before you and I start picking out a china pattern, get what I'm saying? For now, let's go back to a _real_ goodbye kiss and the jammies. If you don't get that job tomorrow because your peaceful night's sleep was disturbed by nightmares of me, I'll never forgive myself."

Erica, savoring the idea of dream images of Veronica and ignoring the stupid sheet, leaned forward for another kiss, lifting both hands into Veronica's mahogany hair. As the kiss deepened, Erica silently thanked God and airport bars the world over for allowing Veronica Taylor to arrive in her life just at the moment Erica needed her most.

End Chapter 7

**oOo oOo oOo**

_You entered my life in a casual way  
__And saw at a glance what I needed._

-- Grace Stricker Dawson, from her poem, "To a Friend"

_So don't get scared, don't get that look in your eye.  
__We've found ourselves together and we both know why.  
__There's still some changes we'll both go through,  
__But it's about me and it's all about you._

-- Tret Fure, from her song, "I Choose You"

_I can only say things in the ways I know, but I am open  
and see farther every day. I am exploring the shadows of  
myself, and my fingers reach out to touch you and learn  
the pattern of your web._

--Jacqueline Lapidus, from the book, "Yantras of Womanlove"

*Hershey, Pennsylvania, USA, a two-hour drive from Baltimore. Easy day trip, but it's better if you can stay at least one night!


	8. Gainful Employment

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 8  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: T

Chapter 8 Summary: Erica secures a job in her field, but her heart asks for more.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for original Author's Notes and Disclaimers. References to Johns Hopkins are a blend of things real and imagined, made to fit for the sake of the story. I beg your indulgence with any timeline wonkiness; some of it's my fault, some of it's not.

**

* * *

**

Stepping through the sliding glass doors that served as the building's entrance, Erica experienced a moment of doubt, thinking maybe the old adage, "you can't go home again," might also apply to returning to one's alma mater. By the end of the interview, however, she'd been convinced otherwise.

Upon gaining her seat for the interview, she'd been advised of a very lucrative position, _not_ the one she had originally come to interview for. Apparently, in the time it took Erica to get from Seattle to Baltimore (which had taken longer than the two weeks Erica had originally planned), another position had opened, one it was clear the administrators at Johns Hopkins desperately wanted her for.

In an effort to mask her excitement, she'd tried to ask routine questions about mission statements and policies and what her daily duties might consist of, and only ended up sounding like she couldn't wait to get started. Since that part was exactly true, the panel of doctors and administrators conducting the interview simply called the thing done and presented their offer without so much as a peep of private discussion. Since the offer was far more than satisfactory, Erica accepted immediately.

Thus it was that in less than two hours after passing through the front doors, Erica Hahn found herself on the Cardiac Surgery Team for the Johns Hopkins Heart & Vascular Institute. This team was made up of only nine doctors, as opposed to the original position, that of team member on general Cardiology, wherein she would've been part of a team of 85! It was not the same as her job at Seattle Grace, but it was definitely a welcome step up from what she'd been expecting. She would start in one week.

After the interviewers departed, a small woman who had curly brown hair and wore an understated beige business suit and comfortable shoes, appeared to show her to her office on the sixth floor. On the way, the woman introduced herself as Rosalie Marks, her office assistant. Since having an assistant was something new to Erica, she wasn't sure how to respond. Perplexity must have shown on her face, because Rosalie smiled and said, "I'm the one who keeps all the ducks in a row for you, Doctor, including paperwork and phones, so you're free to do the doctor stuff. Don't be afraid to ask me any question at all, especially as you get started. That's what I'm here for."

Taking a cue from Veronica's playbook, Erica voiced what was in her head. "Thanks, Ms. Marks, I appreciate it, because I'm sure I'll have a million questions. I've never had my own office assistant before."

"First thing, please call me Rosalie, or Rosie if you prefer." Before Erica could formulate a response, Rosalie went on. "But I will call you 'Doctor Hahn' or 'Doctor,' no matter what you say. You fix people's hearts, it's the least I can do. And don't worry," Rosalie added with a smile, "you may not be used to me now, but soon you'll find me indispensable. Here we are."

Rosalie opened the door to Erica's new office, and to Erica's delight, the well-appointed room also included a sizeable window, out of which she could actually see the water, though it was far into the distance. Erica turned to Rosalie. "You know, not very long ago, I would have insisted you always call me 'Doctor Hahn,' but things have changed dramatically for me recently, and I have no interest in being addressed as though I were some kind of higher being. How about this: call me Doctor Hahn when it's professionally necessary, but otherwise, call me Erica. How's that?

Rosalie considered this, her head tilted. "That works, Doc—Erica."

Erica smiled. "Thanks…Rosalie."

While scanning her new digs, Erica noticed Rosalie check her watch. "I see it's almost noon. Are you hungry? If so, I'd be glad to show you to the cafeteria. It was remodeled and expanded last summer, so it's pretty nice. You can get anything from a burger or pizza to salad or yogurt and everything in between. I like the self-serve fountain drinks myself. Can I show you there? First soda's on me."

Erica sighed and stepped further into the office. "You know, I think I'd just like to sit here a minute, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, Doctor Hahn, please, go right ahead. It's your space. Can I bring you anything? One of those fountain sodas? They come as large as thirty-two ounces."

At that very moment, Erica's stomach announced its presence by growling loudly, reminding Erica that she was, indeed, hungry. The bagel with cream cheese she'd eaten that morning in the hotel hadn't lasted very long.

Rosalie cocked an eyebrow and studied Erica for a moment before saying, "Turkey and swiss on whole wheat, lettuce and tomato, mayo on the side, with a medium Diet Pepsi™?"

Erica went to the desk and set her purse on its surface, spinning the chair so it faced the window. Raising her head, she felt her stomach rumble again, thankful it did so this time without waking the dead. "Rosalie," she said, impressed with the way the woman had nailed one of her favorite sandwiches, "you got that in one. How'd you do that?"

Rosalie winked. "As I said, Doctor Hahn, indispensible."

Erica started to open her purse to get her wallet, but Rosalie waved a hand in the air. "Don't bother, I'll get it later. And remember, I said I'd pay for the first soda. Back in a few."

Alone in the office, Erica fell heavily into the chair and toed off her shoes. Squinting out the window, she could just see the glint of sunlight on the distant water and the tiny triangle of a boat's canvas sail. The window wasn't spotless, but neither was it filthy, leaving Erica to suspect quarterly cleaning by outside services.

Spinning back to face the desk, she looked around at matching forest-green desk accessories, including desk pad, a box of tissues (green), in/out boxes (currently – and amazingly – empty), a basic black phone and computer set-up, and five brightly-sheathed zip drives fanned out beside the keyboard.

Leaning back in the chair, Erica stared at the pristine ceiling. In thinking about it, it was truly hard to believe she had come so far in such a short period of time. Certainly, life was an ever-evolving process, but her recent _processes_ had been unlike any she had ever experienced before. To think, a very short while ago, she had started as Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery at Seattle Grace Hospital in Washington state, content in her brusqueness and sure of her surgical skills and her future. Now here she was starting a new job and a new life on the other side of the country, an emerging lesbian with her first failed relationship already behind her, and a new friendship (and who-knew-what-else) beginning. It was heady, yet humbling, and as it stood right now, she had only one regret.

Leaning forward to rummage in her purse for her cell phone, Erica pulled it out along with a business card. Consulting the card, she dialed Veronica's work number. After the third ring, Erica knew her call would go to voicemail. Pulling a notepad and pen to her, she began to doodle while waiting out Veronica's recorded greeting. "Ronnie? This is Erica. Guess what? You're talking to the newest member of Johns Hopkins Heart & Vascular Institute's Cardiac Surgery Team, which happens to be much better than the job I came to interview for. How about that? Right now, I'm about to have lunch in my new office with my new office assistant – and how about _that_, I have one of those, too. After that, I'm headed back to the hotel for a nap. Please call me there this afternoon." She hesitated, unsure if she should add anything more personal, and then before  
she'd even made a conscious decision, the words left her lips. "I can't wait to see you again. Bye."

Grabbing the edge of the desk in preparation to swivel the chair back to face the window, Erica glanced down at her doodles and drew in a sharp breath. During her call to Veronica, her subconscious had busied itself by making sure Erica did not forget unfinished business. Amid swirls and dashes and tiny stemless flowers were the words "Call Callie."

End Chapter 8

**oOo oOo oOo**

_You must choose the thoughts and actions that will lead you on to success._

-- R.C. Allen

_Only you can hold yourself back, only you can stand in your own way. Only you can help yourself._

-- Mikhail Strabo


	9. Long Distance Call

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 9  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: T

Chapter 9 Summary: Erica swallows her pride (and her pain) and makes a phone call.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for original Author's Notes and Disclaimers. I beg your indulgence with any timeline wonkiness; some of it's my fault, some of it's not. Takes into account events through "Stand By Me," but no further.

**

* * *

**

Entering her hotel room, Erica went first to the television, tuning it to a music station playing light jazz and then to the small coffeemaker on the desk, where she started it brewing its one-cup serving. Then she went to stand by the window, gazing out again at the waterfront and the bright blue sky accented with brushstrokes of clouds. No air moved on Federal Hill; the big flag lay limp against its pole. People still strolled hand-in-hand along the brick promenade by the water.

Hugging herself, Erica inhaled the scent of bad coffee and exhaled it slowly out, trying to organize her thoughts. She turned from the window and dug in her pants pocket for the paper she'd doodled on. "Call Callie" stared up accusingly, reminding her of the awful way she had spoken to Callie during those last minutes in front of the hospital. But even now, the memory of how hurt she'd been by Callie's attitude and allegiance surfaced anew, evoking a shudder that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. It was a harsh disparity, one she was at a loss to reconcile. Even if she did call Callie, what could she say after all this time that could possibly serve as anything close to closure? It seemed ludicrous to try, easier to just put it behind her, but even as the thought formed, Veronica's words echoed through her mind:

…_it sounds to me like she was pretty significant in your life. She outed you, fergodssake! That's not nothing, you know. If you're not going back to Seattle, she probably deserves a phone call…_

Erica glanced at her watch, figuring the time difference, and thought Callie was probably working now, so she could leave a message. Then, if Callie wanted to talk, Callie would call her back.

She snorted derisively. Coward's way out. _Again_. Erica knew she should wait for a time when Callie would answer, but, unfortunately, now that she had it in her head, the notion to call would not turn her loose. Pulling out her cell phone and pressing the number still on speed dial, she began to compose in her head the message she would leave on Callie's voicemail. _Callie, this is Erica. I know we…_I_…left things in a bad way, and I've waited too long to call. I shouldn't've walked away from you like that, and I wanted to apologize for my—_

"Hello?"

Erica stopped breathing. Callie was answering live. She was on the line, and Erica, unprepared, felt her stomach tighten up. "Callie?" She dropped heavily onto the bed.

A beat of hesitation, then, "Erica." Not a question.

"Callie." Perhaps they would play this game forever, but then Callie added more words.

"I really didn't expect to hear from you. Ever."

Erica heard the bitterness, which Erica figured she deserved. Before she lost her nerve and the sense that Callie would even stay on the line, Erica pushed on. "I'm sorry, Callie. It was wrong of me to walk away from you, but I was so mad and it hurt so much I couldn't think straight. I had every intention of talking to you the next day, when I had cooled down a little. But when the next day came, I was _still_ angry. I knew most of the anger was directed more at the hospital and Richard than at you, but it was all so convoluted that I just fell back on an old tactic to protect myself: I let the hurt fuel the anger, and let the anger give me strength to storm righteously away from it all, even when I knew it was the exact wrong thing to do. I treated you terribly, I know, and there's no reason for you to even talk to me. But will you? Talk to me?"

Callie didn't hesitate this time. "Of course I'll talk to you. You called, and that counts for something. I-I suppose…I suppose I'm sorry, too."

Callie's apology, albeit back-handed, was something Erica never expected to hear, and she struggled to keep the relief from her voice, fearing it would sound to Callie like getting an apology out of her was the only reason Erica had called. "I appreciate that. All of that." Erica tried desperately to think of something to say that would give their conversation a place to go, but her mind was stunningly blank. Callie did it by asking a simple question.

"So…where are you?"

"Baltimore, Cal. Johns Hopkins. In fact, I just got a job today with the Heart & Vascular Institute."

"Johns Hopkins, huh? That makes perfect sense. Congratulations."

Much of the bitterness had faded from Callie's voice, and this gave Erica some hope that their tattered friendship could be restored. Releasing an uneven breath, she said, "Thanks. Callie, I'm sorry. I really am. I never gave you a chance to explain yourself. I acted just like the chrome-plated bitch I was reputed to be. I'm surprised I didn't hear Yang cheering from here when she learned I was gone."

Callie actually chuckled at that. "Yeah, well, she kinda did. Then the Chief hired this very weird cardio doc with Asperger's, but she didn't last long, and he's still looking for someone." Callie sighed and spoke with the wisdom only the passage of time could afford. "It's okay, you know. I mean, it wasn't pretty, we both said things we shouldn't have, but we both survived, didn't we?"

"I guess. More or less."

"Don't say that. It hurt for a while, but we _did_ survive. I've been thinking about it. Maybe it was meant to happen the way it did. You know, to give us perspective for the next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah. I-I met someone. A woman." A small breath of silence, and then, "Izzie has cancer."

The hotel room tilted sideways, but the doctor in Erica quickly asserted itself and the room righted. "Oh, no, Cal. Tell me."

And thus began the conversation that would start Callie and Erica on the road back to the friendship that had once defined them. Callie told Erica about how the staff had come to learn Izzie's diagnosis and how the cancer was connected to Izzie's strange behavior. It may have also played a role in Izzie's actions three years ago on behalf of Denny, but that wasn't as easy to determine.

"Jesus, Callie. And now of course I _really_ feel like a bitch about what I threatened to do. Great, just great."

"No, Erica, no. Don't do that to yourself. You didn't know. _None_ of us knew, except George suspected, and he tried to tell us something was really wrong with Iz, but none of us listened. And besides, your patient was your priority; you were only trying to do the right thing for him. I totally get that now. And you didn't report Izzie to UNOS, did you?"

"No."

"And your patient, what was his name? How's he?"

"Michael, Michael Norris. He's still at Mercy West, waiting for another heart. But I left him in good hands, and it's only a matter of time till he gets his transplant."

"There, then, you see? It's all good."

"Uh huh. Define good."

"Listen, Izzie resisted treatment at first, driving Cristina crazy because Cristina was the only one Izzie told about the cancer – don't ask me _why _she picked Cristina – but once Yang spilled the beans, Izzie was actually relieved that everyone knew, and now she's ready to fight. The cancer's spread to her brain, and Derek's going to operate, but, God, don't get me started on _him_, just be glad he's doing it." Callie paused a beat. "Um…you heard me, before, when I said I met someone?"

Erica hesitated, wondering if she should tell Callie she'd also met someone. She must've been silent for too long, because Callie piped up. "Erica, you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here. You met someone. A woman." Again the words left her lips before her brain even engaged the possibility. "I met someone, too."

Callie snickered softly. "We're a pair, then, aren't we? You first. What's her name and where'd you meet her? Er, assuming it's a _her_."

"Yes, it's a _her_. Her name's Veronica Taylor, and I met her in the airport bar in St. Louis. I think she picked me up."

Callie started laughing that full, throaty laughter that had first attracted Erica to her. "Okay, I'da paid money to see that. Veronica, huh? You don't hear that name much anymore."

"She goes by Ronnie, and she lives here in Baltimore. She's wild, and I've never met anyone like her. She's got dark red hair and green eyes and, well, she's a lesbian, and let's just say the word _closet_ is not in her vocabulary. What about you? What's her name and where did you meet her?"

"Arizona Robbins, and she's a pediatric surgeon here. And she's a lesbian, too. She's, um, blonde and blue-eyed and she kissed me in the ladies' room at Joe's, and please don't say you detect a pattern." Erica chuckled as Callie went on to explain about how it had taken her making a fool of herself in front of Arizona several times before she figured out she didn't need to try so hard. Arizona had, in fact, asked her out to dinner – in an elevator, no less, and yes, Callie admitted, maybe there _was_ a pattern. Callie said she'd accepted, but their schedules had yet to coincide enough to provide opportunity to actually go.

"Arizona? Wow, you don't hear that name much _at all_. I'm happy for you, Callie. I hope dinner goes well. Just promise me you won't start talking about 'safe words' or going south of any 'lines,' okay?" Callie snorted in amusement, and as she did, Erica came full circle. "You know, Callie, maybe you're right."

"I am? No, I _am_. About what?"

Erica snickered. "That maybe what happened between us was meant to give us perspective for the next time. I mean, we're both having 'next times' and it's different. Better."

"Yeah, I guess. But when you put it like that, it sounds too easy, doesn't it? Like maybe we didn't suffer enough before being granted 'next times.'"

"Maybe. But that's what happened, right?"

"Well, yes, I—oh, whoa! My pager just went off. I've gotta go."

Erica understood. "Go. But promise to keep in touch, will you?"

"Only if you'll do the same."

"I promise." Veronica's voice sounded in her head – _she was pretty significant in your life_ – and Erica spoke quickly, afraid Callie would hang up before she could say what had suddenly become very important for her to say. "Callie, I'll never forget what you did for me."

"What was that? Piss you off?"

Erica smiled into the phone, but was not deterred. "No. As Ronnie put it, you 'outed' me. She said it was 'not nothing,' and she was right. I'm glad you answered, Callie, glad I didn't have to leave a message that you might not have returned. You understand?"

"Yeah, I do…"

Callie's heartfelt sigh strengthened Erica's hope that maybe they could, indeed, be friends again. "Good. I know you gotta go. Keep me posted about Izzie, would you?"

"I will. I'll talk to you again soon, I promise. And hey…just so you know, I'm glad I answered, too." Another sigh. "Bye."

"Bye." The connection closed, but Erica sat for a full minute with the phone to her ear, wondering how it was that a person could feel so wonderful and so terrible all at the same time. She was a doctor, she should know. But she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all herself. She _did_ know. Matters of the heart never gave anyone an even break.

She finally closed the phone, only to have it ring again in her hand. She knew it would be Veronica. Smiling, Erica re-opened the phone, inhaling deeply the scent of coffee that didn't smell so bad anymore.

End Chapter 9

**oOo oOo oOo**

_An apology is the superglue of life. It can repair just about anything._

-- Lynn Johnston

_All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on._

-- Henry Ellis

_For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven._

-- Ecclesiastes 3:1 (RSV)


	10. Wedgewood

Title: Twenty-Twenty – Chapter 10  
Author: DianeB  
Pairing: Hahn/OFC  
Rating: T

Chapter 10 Summary: Erica and Veronica secure their relationship, and Erica meets the lesbians. Not necessarily in that order, or that dramatic.

Author's Note: See Chapters 1 & 2 for original Author's Notes and Disclaimers. References to restaurants and bars in Baltimore are a blend of things real and imagined, made to fit for the sake of the story. I beg your indulgence with any timeline wonkiness; some of it's my fault, some of it's not.

Special Chapter 10 Disclaimer: Apologies if you think this chapter has progressed too quickly to conclusion. But here's the thing: ten chapters is an epic for me; it's time to end. To all those who've read and reviewed, thanks for sticking with me and for all your kind words!

**

* * *

**

"Here's to great new jobs, attentive office assistants, and…talking to exes!" Veronica held her wineglass high. Erica raised hers to meet it, and their glasses clinked together. No messy crabs tonight. Tonight it was a tiny, dimly-lit restaurant in Little Italy, with homemade antipasti, ravioli, cannoli, and other rich foods ending in "i." "I'm glad you called Callie, but I gotta confess I still want to slap her."

Erica, getting used to Veronica's "in-your-face" manner, said, "I'll give you that, but sooner or later, you're going to have to let it go. Callie and I had a brief but fulfilling talk, and I came to learn a few things." Erica had decided she would keep the information about Izzie's cancer for another time, since all Veronica knew was that she and Callie had had a "big disagreement about hospital business."

"You know," Erica continued, "this is going to sound crazy, but if I had stayed, I think it might have been worse between us, messier and more painful. The passage of time made things less volatile, which does make a certain amount of sense. Callie suggested that everything worked out the way it did for a reason, and I think maybe I agree. She told me she met someone. A woman."

Veronica dropped her wrist, her wineglass dangling precariously from her fingers, disbelief evident on her face. "Okay, some of that sounds like bullshit, but if you're okay with it, then so am I. But I'll tell ya, I'd've never figured Callie for queer, not from the things you told me, and, hell, maybe she still isn't. You didn't get into that with her, did you?

"No. Didn't seem necessary."

"So she met herself another girl, did she? Did you tell her _you_ met another girl, too?"

Considering the amount of teasing she'd had to endure in the short time she'd known Veronica, it perched in Erica's mind to answer in the negative, but then she dismissed it as being too evil. "Of course."

"Oh really?" Veronica winked, wineglass still dangling. "Who'd ya meet?"

Realizing she should have gone with her original impulse, Erica went with it now. "Some redheaded wench who tried to pick me up in a bar."

Veronica scoffed, setting her glass on the table with a muffled thump. "_Tried_ to?"

Erica felt her face go warm and was glad for the restaurant's low lighting. Matching wits with Veronica Taylor wasn't going to be easy, but Erica knew she'd get it with enough practice.

"But enough about me, Doc, let's talk about you and Johns Hopkins Medicine. Hired you on the spot, did they? Well, I guess you weren't lying when you said you were a top-notch cardiothoracic surgeon."

Practice was one thing, but refusing a gift was just plain silly. "I believe the phrase I used was _first-rate_," Erica said, pointing her fork at Veronica for emphasis, "so please get it right next time." She speared her last ravioli.

"Yes, _ma'am_, first-rate Doctor Hahn. But for real? I knew you'd get the job because I Googled you last night when I got home."

So much for wits-matching; Erica's fork rattled to her plate. "You _what_!?"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a wad. I Googled you, and it appears you're quite something in the field of cardiothoracic surgery. I'm _very_ impressed. No wonder the suits at Hopkins didn't hesitate. They're lucky to have you. And who'm I kidding? _I'm_ lucky to have you! Salute!" Veronica raised her glass and they clinked again, this time nearly cracking the rims. "Oops!" Veronica said, stealing a guilty look around, "no sense letting our joy destroy the expensive stemwear. Drink up, hon! First-rate surgeon or not, we've got places to be."

Erica took another small sip, put the glass down, and looked into Veronica's sparkling green eyes. "Listen, about that…"

"Oh no you don't! No backing out. We discussed this, remember? C'mon, there's totally nothing to be afraid of. They're just a bunch of women, is all."

Erica lowered her eyes, transferred her linen napkin from her lap to the table, and began fiddling with its hemmed edge. "No, they're just a bunch of _lesbian_ women, which is not _is all_ to me, okay?"

Veronica yielded the point. "Okay. I get that you're nervous, but I can't believe a big old first-rate surgeon like you would want to cancel on me. Really, like I told you, we need your no-nonsense attitude. We do. We tend to get going on other things, forget why we're there, and it ends up taking for_ever_. So you have to come with me, if for no other reason than to keep us on-task."

Erica huffed and rolled her eyes, picking up her wine again and swirling the remaining liquid around in the bottom of the glass. "Yeah, like they're going to listen to someone they just met telling them what to do."

Veronica gave her a "what-are-you nuts?" look. "You're joking, right? With your stunning good looks and that Suzanne Pleshette voice of yours? Hell, they'll be falling all over themselves to listen to you." Veronica laughed and downed the last of her wine. "C'mon, let's get moving! We can get cannoli to go."

**oOo oOo oOo**

Never having worked for a non-profit organization, Erica had nothing to compare the experience to. Labeling, sorting, and bundling postcards in accordance with a set of regulations complicated enough to confound Einstein, Erica found herself caught up in the sheer effort of it and never had time to be nervous about the women surrounding her.

In fact, it appeared as though many of the women were, indeed, _falling all over themselves_ to listen to her. It occurred to Erica that if they had been men, their behavior would have been off-color, rude, and Erica would have dismissed them out of hand. But these women were nothing like that. They were polite, friendly and funny, and in their company Erica felt flattered and, well, sexy. One glance across the room to Veronica confirmed the redhead knew exactly how she was feeling. Erica smiled and raised a postcard at being caught out.

**oOo oOo oOo**

"One drink, I swear. Then I'll take you back to your hotel, I promise. And you _know_ I keep my promises. C'mon, Doc, don't make me beg. I like _you_ to beg, not me."

The group had finished assembling the mailing in record time, and to celebrate they were heading to the bar, encouraging Erica and Veronica to come along. Accompanying Veronica to the GLBT Community Center to help with a mailing was one thing. Accompanying her to a lesbian bar was something else entirely. "What if someone, uh, hits on me?"

"I'd be worried if someone _didn't_, Doc. But listen, it's Tuesday night, definitely not a big girls' night out, so don't worry. I bet it'll only be the bunch of us plus maybe a few of the regulars. Okay, the regulars might scare you, but they're harmless, trust me. Just stick with us, which I don't think's gonna be a problem, and you'll be fine. One beer and we're gone."

"I'm not crazy about beer, Ronnie."

"Boy, aren't you the queen of hair-splitting tonight? Wine, then. I'm buying. How can you refuse?" Veronica batted her eyes.

Under such persuasive conditions, Erica's resistance broke.

**oOo oOo oOo **

The bar, named Pineapples for the owner's favorite fruit, was relatively small, but still large enough to house a postage-stamp-sized wooden dance floor with a DJ next to it, fully visible in a small glass booth. To Erica's eyes, the DJ was terribly young and terribly thin, dressed entirely in black, right down to her nails and lips, but she was playing music from a couple of decades back. Judging by the overall age of the patrons, Erica included, the playlist was very much appreciated.

The volume, just this side of eardrum-shredding, ruined any hope of normal conversation. Feeling isolated by the sound, Erica jumped when she felt Veronica's lips at her ear. "So, Doc, it's a little loud, but otherwise not too bad, right? Empty, just like I said, except for us and the old butches at the bar, and like I said, they're harmless. Friendly, even."

Erica leaned back so her lips were alongside Veronica's ear, "No, it's not too bad. Just don't leave me, okay?" They continued to play the lean-and-yell game.

"What if you leave me?"

"No chance of that."

"You want that wine now?"

"That'd be great."

In the interim, the music changed to something slow from the eighties that Erica vaguely recognized, and was thankfully being played at a few less decibels. Women began to couple up, heading to the miniature dance floor. Erica looked around for Veronica, suddenly fearful, and was thankful to see her approaching.

"Doc," she said, handing Erica the glass and snickering, "you look like a deer in the headlights. Relax already!"

Erica took a small sip, watching the women dancing, grateful for something to do. So focused on trying to appear comfortable, like she came to lesbian bars every night, Erica nearly dropped the glass when she felt Veronica's warm breath at her ear again, even though the music's volume didn't require it of her. "Shall we dance?" Without waiting for an answer, Veronica removed the glass from Erica's hand and walked her the two steps to the dance floor. Turning Erica into her arms, Veronica settled against her like she'd been doing it all her life. "There now, isn't this nice?"

Erica had to agree it _was_ nice. "Yes, but who leads?"

"Neither of us, silly. Just move with the music, okay? Er, wait." Veronica leaned back, one eyebrow raised in mock concern. "Unless this is your way of telling me you have no sense of rhythm?"

"Oh, don't worry," Erica said, "I've got rhythm." To prove it, she began sliding her hips against Veronica in perfect time with the music, laughing when Veronica started humming the famous Cole Porter tune, singing lyrics only enough to change "I got my man" to "I got my girl," and finishing with "Who could ask for anything more?"

Secure and comfortable in Veronica's arms, and feeling happier in her own skin than she could ever remember feeling, Erica braved another test of her lesbianism. Slowly and deliberately, she ran the tip of her tongue lightly along the inside edge of Veronica's ear, intensely surprised when this produced not only a moan from Veronica, but a tingle of arousal in herself.

Veronica drew back and studied Erica intently, her emerald eyes black in the bar's darkness.

Erica couldn't stand the dark stare for very long. "What? Do I have spinach between my teeth?"

Veronica ignored Erica's question. Her voice in the lower register, she asked, "Remember what I said about the lesbians falling into bed a little too quickly, starting a relationship in the middle instead of the beginning?"

Erica smiled, instantly getting the new signal, feeling the tingle kick up a notch. "I do remember you saying that, yes."

Veronica brought Erica tightly against her, one hand tracing patterns on Erica's back. They continued to sway to the music. "Okay," Veronica breathed over Erica's shoulder. "And how I said sometimes it doesn't work out, but…sometimes it does?"

"I remember that, too." Recalling how one-sided their lovemaking had been the night before, and emboldened by the passion and potential of the moment, Erica insinuated her thigh between Veronica's legs, at first shocked and then pleased when Veronica returned pressure. The tingle bloomed into wetness that Erica knew was soaking the (thankfully absorbent cotton) crotch of her panties.

Blatantly riding Erica's thigh, right there in front of God and everybody, Veronica nuzzled Erica's neck and whispered, "May I ask you a very important question?

"A-And the questions so far have been unimportant?" _This wits-matching thing_, Erica thought, her arousal beginning to affect her coherency, _isn't…not so…_

"How do you feel about…Wedgewood?"

The Very End.

**oOo oOo oOo**

_For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul._

-- Judy Garland

_It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it __has__ begun._

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

_The Book of Love has music in it.  
In fact, that's where music comes from.  
Some of it's just transcendental,  
Some of it's just really dumb.  
But I love it when you sing to me,  
And you can sing me anything._

-- Peter Gabriel, from the song "The Book of Love," from the "Shall We Dance?" soundtrack


End file.
